


Cyrano de Stiggerac

by derryderrydown



Category: Top Gear (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stig's attempts to woo James aren't going very well. There's nothing for Jeremy and Richard to do but help a friend out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cyrano de Stiggerac

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nixwilliams/profile)[**nixwilliams**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nixwilliams/) for beta and encouragement. Remaining faults are mine. Further thanks to the Stig's thighs for continuing inspiration.

"Stig's reading Cosmo," Richard said, dropping the call sheets onto the table in the Top Gear production office.

Jeremy didn't bother looking up from the _Power Monthly (Extra-Power Edition!)_ he was reading. "Which one?"

"Which one? They're all the same. Ten ways to have a great orgasm, twenty ways to lose weight and a hundred outfits to wear once you've lost weight so you can attract a man to have the orgasms with."

And then James wandered in, clutching a handful of dandelions. "I found these in my pigeonhole," he said, sounding slightly more bemused than normal.

"August 2004," Jeremy said, "had an article on how to seduce a man."

"Don't you just do that by saying, 'Hi, fancy a shag?'" Richard asked.

"Generally, yes," Jeremy said. "But in Cosmo land, it's more complicated."

"What are you talking about?" James asked. "And _who_ has been stuffing weeds in with my post?"

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Richard, who slowly nodded as comprehension dawned. "Ah, right." He scratched the back of his head. "Well, this could be awkward."

"You're both insane," James said, tossed the wilted dandelions onto the table, and left.

* * *

 

Half an hour later, he was back, clutching a piece of paper. "Okay," he said. "Which of you two wrote this?"

Richard stopped sucking on the end of his pen and said, "Wrote what?"

"You know what."

"Really, I don't."

"_This!_" James waved the piece of paper emphatically.

"You look like Neville Chamberlain," Jeremy said, and stood up long enough to snatch the paper. He cleared his throat and read, "Porsches are red, Ferraris are too; the Koenigsegg CCX is beautiful, and so are you."

Jeremy and Richard exchanged concerned glances.

"Oh, dear," Richard said.

James took a deep breath. "You're not going to get to me, you know," he said. "I am calm, unruffled and serene."

"Good to know," Jeremy said, and headed off purposefully.

A moment later, Richard said, "I've just got to… er. Thing. Bye!"

"I know what you're planning!" James called after him.

Richard popped his head back in. "Believe me, mate, you don't. Even _I_ don't know what I'm planning."

"Business as usual, then," James muttered.

* * *

 

Richard tracked Jeremy down by the sad remains of the cool wall. "That really wasn't good," Richard said. "I mean, it didn't even scan."

"And the Koenigsegg CCX isn't beautiful," Jeremy said. "It's bugfuck crazy and insane and it tried to kill him. It couldn't be further from May."

"Unless it was a metaphor about the fact that May's kind of knocked him for…" Richard trailed off under Jeremy's disapproving glare. "No, Stig doesn't know about metaphor." Jeremy's glare didn't soften. "And neither do I, obviously, because that's a totally girly thing to know about." He cleared his throat.

"I've a feeling this is going to escalate," Jeremy said. "And it's just going to cause trouble."

* * *

 

Two days later, James dropped the mushy remains of a half-eaten Galaxy on Richard's lap.

Richard sprang up. "Oi! These jeans cost two hundred quid, you bastard!"

"Then you shouldn't leave your leftover chocolate in my Panda."

"It wasn't me!" Richard protested, but James was gone.

* * *

 

That week's Star in a Reasonably Priced Car was Catherine Tate.

Sitting in the green room, she said, "David and Billie both said Stig was great."

"Everybody says that," Richard said, trying to look away from her cleavage. Not trying very hard, admittedly, but it wasn't _his_ fault that it was basically at his eye level.

"Not with me, he wasn't."

"Really?" Richard managed to look up at that, to find Catherine frowning at a Jammy Dodger.

"And I bet my lap time's shit, too. If I don't beat David, I'll never hear the end of it."

Richard resolved to make a few tweaks to her time. It was only fair if Stig had been below par.

And she really did have a magnificent rack.

* * *

 

Things just got worse when the Stig was turned loose in the latest Noble supercar and came back with a time that would disgrace a clapped-out Escort.

"Oh, fuck," Jeremy said. "This is almost as bad as when he fell in love with the old Jag."

"And we can't send May off the end of an aircraft carrier. Can we? No. No, of course we can't."

"We've got to do something about it," Jeremy said.

"What, though?"

"Stig's completely failing to seduce May on his own," Jeremy said, "so we're just going to have to do it for him."

Richard sucked in a breath. "This falls under 'ambitious but rubbish', you know?"

"Bollocks. We're both married. We've both done some successful seducing in our time."

"But we seduced women. Beautiful, intelligent women, who are normal and have normal sorts of interests. Not May."

"The basic principles apply," Jeremy said airily.

"Right. Basic principles." Richard nodded. "What _are_ the basic principles?"

For a moment, Jeremy looked lost but then he declared, "Presents!"

"Stig's been trying that. Flowers, poems, chocolate…"

Jeremy waved a determined finger. "But! He hasn't been thinking about May-type presents. What would May prefer to chocolate?"

Enlightenment dawned. "A Tesco's Finest steak pie."

"And what would he prefer to sexy lingerie?"

Richard tried - with moderate success - to banish the thought of James in sexy lingerie. "A new woolly jumper!"

"And what would beat flowers?"

Richard was on a roll. "A 40-year-old OO gauge locomotive, mint in box!"

"Right!" Jeremy said. "You know clothes and stuff - you go and get the woolly jumper. I'll get the pie."

"What about the locomotive?"

"That would involve going to an auction, wouldn't it?"

Richard nodded.

"Full of the kind of people who go to model railway auctions."

Richard nodded again.

Jeremy seemed to struggle with himself for a long moment, then said, "Let's get him a rifle instead."

"Good plan," Richard said, with the relief of a man who'd seen a visit to terrifyingly nerdy auction in his near future.

"But only as a last resort," Jeremy said. "If the pie and jumper don't work. Do you know how much paperwork you have to fill in to be allowed an AK-47?"

* * *

 

They met up five hours later. (It would have been half an hour but Jeremy had gone to Tesco in his Ford GT and it had developed problems with the fuel pump on the way there, and then refused to rev higher than 2,000 when it came time to leave.) "Well?" Jeremy asked.

Richard opened up his Dolce &amp; Gabbana bag to reveal a Marks &amp; Sparks carrier bag inside. At Jeremy's raised eyebrow, he said, "Oh, come on. Like I'm going to walk around with a Marks bag. Buying the bloody jumper was embarrassing enough."

"Let's see."

Richard shook the bag and they both stared at the woolly object that fell out.

"It's very... May," Jeremy finally said.

"Very," Richard agreed fervently.

Touching it as little as possible, Jeremy shoved it back into its bag. "Anyway, I got him two pies. I figure that if all goes well, he can invite Stig back to eat the other one." He paused. "Stig would have taken his helmet off by then, right?"

"Does it come off?"

Jeremy paused, frowning. "I don't know."

"I've never dared investigate." Richard pulled the sort of face usually prompted by wriggly things with too many legs and shuddered. "God knows what's under there."

"May'll find out for us," Jeremy decided. "And Stig's got to eat somehow. Probably. So we'll stick with the pie plan."

"Right." Richard nodded enthusiastically. "How do we deliver the pie and jumper?"

"We follow the Stig's modus operandi and leave it in May's pigeonhole."

"How's he going to know who it's from?"

"We'll leave a note," Jeremy said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "With one of those proper poems that May's always going on about."

"How will that help?" Richard asked, not sounding convinced.

"Obviously," Jeremy said, "we'll perfume it with Eau de Stig."

"Premium unleaded and fireproof clothing," Richard said approvingly. His face fell. "But this _is_ May we're talking about."

Jeremy sighed. "Okay, and we'll sign it 'Stig'. Happy?"

"I'm still not sure it'll be enough," Richard muttered. At Jeremy's glare, he held his hands up. "I'm happy, I'm happy!"

* * *

 

After googling 'love poem' and spending a good five minutes poring over the results-

("What's with all the angels?"

"This one doesn't even rhyme. I think Stig's was better."

"No Burns! The man couldn't speak English."

"Sod it, he likes Donne. Just pick one of them.")

-Richard started to write out The Triple Fool in something that was supposed to resemble the Stig's handwriting. However, since the Stig's handwriting was basically Times New Roman, he quickly gave up and printed it out. "You can make it smell right," he said, handing the printout to Jeremy.

With a weary sigh, Jeremy stomped out to the car park, where the Stig was standing face-to-bonnet with a Ferrari, possibly absorbed in some form of silent conversation or possibly just admiring the sheen of the paintwork. You could never really tell with the Stig.

Perhaps, Jeremy thought, it wasn't entirely fair to James to set him up with a probably-not-human without asking him. But thinking about it was making Jeremy experience an unfamiliar emotion that might be 'guilt' and giving him a bit of a headache, so he quickly stopped thinking about it. The needs of the many and all that. He wasn't expecting James to do anything that Spock wouldn't have done.

"Stig!" he said enthusiastically.

The Stig moved his helmet so the blank visor was staring right at Jeremy, and Jeremy faltered before he could enthusiastically clap his hand on the Stig's back.

"Er, here." He held out the paper. "Could you just, kind of, rub that..." He trailed off as he realised how pervy that sounded. "Hold that for a bit. Quite close to your body."

After a moment, the Stig took hold of the paper and held it up to his visor.

"No need to read it," Jeremy said quickly but the Stig ignored him.

When he'd finished, he tilted his helmet to one side and - probably - stared at Jeremy.

"You didn't seem to be getting very far with your wooing," Jeremy said. "So me and Richard thought we'd help out."

The Stig considered it. Or possibly considered how to snap Jeremy's head off. You never could tell. Eventually, he thrust the piece of paper at Jeremy and, without waiting to make sure Jeremy had hold of it, turned on his heel and marched off.

All in all, Jeremy considered, it could have gone worse.

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Jeremy and Richard were peering out the window of the production office, trying not to be seen by James, who was approaching with his usual lack of determination and tendency to be distracted by interesting pebbles.

"And you left both pies, right?" Jeremy said.

"For the thousandth time, _yes_," Richard said. "_And_ the jumper _and_ the poem."

"We should have got the locomotive," Jeremy said. "Or at least the rifle."

"Were you really willing to give up your AK-47?" Richard asked.

"For the good of the show," Jeremy said nobly, "I'd do it."

"Bollocks," Richard said.

And Jeremy had to admit he had a point.

But James had finally stopped nudging a clump of grass with his shoe and was nearing the production office - when, out of nowhere, the Stig appeared. And, with the Stig, that was literal.

"Mayday," Jeremy hissed. "Stig's interfering."

"Move your bloody arm," Richard said, pushing Jeremy out of the way. "I can't see. What's he doing?"

"He's... giving him a piece of paper."

They both stared as James read the paper. The Stig was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Looking... uncomfortable.

"This can't be good," Richard said.

And James was slumping even more than normal, face being hidden by his hair.

"Oh, shit," Jeremy said.

But then, the Stig was holding James' hand. And James was taking a step forward. And-

"Did he just kiss Stig's _helmet_?" Richard said. "The one where his head should be. On top of his shoulders. Oh, god, I've just made myself feel sick."

"Don't look," Jeremy said. "He's doing it again."

Richard buried his face in his hands. "Tell me when it's over."

After a few minutes, Jeremy said. "They've gone."

Richard peered over the bottom of the window. "May dropped the paper."

He and Jeremy shared a look.

"It's a very private note," Richard said. "We really shouldn't read it."

"Bugger that," Jeremy said, and ran out the office as fast as a fat, middle-aged man with a dodgy hip could be expected to run, which was why Richard easily beat him to the note.

"Dear James," he read, "Fancy a shag? Love, The Stig."

"See?" Jeremy said. "He should have just taken our advice right from the start."


End file.
